Niao Ni
Chapter 747 The Strongest, the Name of a Person!
Haitang and Wang Shisanlang were very concerned for Fan Xian's well-being, because of a slightly complicated fact: the Temple didn't seem to care about their lives, but was only trying to keep Fan Xian within its walls forever.
Whether it was summer or autumn, the wind and snow in the far north gradually picked up again, and the air was filled with an increasingly chilling cold. Haitang, wrapped in a thick fur collar, opened her bright but weary eyes and sincerely advised Fan Xian: "We haven't really done anything for you these past few months, we haven't been able to help you at all, but we can't just stand by and watch you go to your death."
Fan Xian was gripping a wooden stick tightly to help himself walk, and didn't react to Haitang's words, his face remaining calm.
"I think we should return south as soon as possible, whether to Shangjing City or back to Dongyi, to gather the Qingshan lineage or the Jianlu disciples, and then explore the Temple again. That way, we'd have a better chance of rescuing that grandmaster." Wang Shisanlang wasn't clear about the true relationship between Wu Zhu and Fan Xian, but he knew that Fan Xian cared a lot about the grandmaster. He just couldn't understand why the grandmaster, under the Temple's pressure, didn't even have the courage to break the formation, and even stabbed Fan Xian.
Wang Shisanlang's suggestion was actually quite prudent. Since Fan Xian knew the way to the Temple and had been preparing for it for years, plus this experience, once they returned south to regroup, it wouldn't be difficult to come north again with some powerful helpers.
However, when Fan Xian heard Wang Shisanlang's words, his eyes narrowed. The chill was like the temperature in the air, directly enveloping the faces of his companions. He spoke slowly but with unwavering determination: "Don't forget the oath we made before entering the snow plains. The whereabouts of the Temple must not be known to anyone else in the world except the three of us!"
Wang Shisanlang's expression changed slightly, and he fell silent, because this was something he and Haitang had promised Fan Xian. He just didn't understand why Fan Xian had the courage to explore the Temple again, but seemed to feel endless fear and anxiety about the possibility of the Temple's location being leaked to the world.
"Shisan, help me up the mountain. You stay at the foot of the snow mountain and try to take Ada and Erda to move the camp over here." Fan Xian withdrew his gaze from the towering snow mountain, his eyes slightly moist, and looked at Haitang wrapped in a fur coat, softly saying: "Wait for us to come back at the camp."
"I'm not going up the mountain with you?" Haitang's face, exposed outside the fur, was flushed, and she said with slight surprise.
"Earlier, you said that this trip to the Temple didn't help much." Fan Xian smiled self-deprecatingly and said, "Actually, without you, I would have died in the ice and snow long ago, so don't say things like that again. This time, I'm going up the mountain to deal with my uncle. Neither you nor Shisan can really have any impact on this battle."
He said apologetically, "That's a little impolite, but you also know that my uncle is really too powerful."
Haitang and Wang Shisanlang didn't say anything. Fan Xian continued calmly: "If it wasn't necessary to have someone to support me, I wouldn't even want to bring Shisan. After the two of us go up the mountain, you just wait at the foot of the mountain, ready to respond. If things go wrong, we'll leave the mountain lightly... but don't worry too much. According to the Temple's rules, as long as you leave the Temple's range, they won't attack you."
"If I'm responding, how long do I have to wait for you at the foot of the mountain?" A faint light flickered in Haitang's eyes, and she asked softly, but she felt a different taste in her heart. In this snow-covered mountain wilderness, human force seemed so weak. Compared to that, the things in Fan Xian's head were more worthy of reliance.
"Three days... and Shisan will be responsible for contacting you. If I tell you to leave..." A faint sorrow suddenly appeared in Fan Xian's eyes, like a frail teenager, "You must leave immediately, at least... also notify my wife and children... that something happened to me."
Haitang and Wang Shisanlang fell silent at the same time.
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The higher they went up the mountain, the less wind and snow there was. The Temple, deeply embedded in the mountains, hidden by the sky and ice and snow, was above them. This was his second time visiting, so he knew the familiar path. Fan Xian leaned on a wooden stick in one hand and supported Wang Shisanlang's shoulder with the other, climbing the snow mountain with great difficulty. Before long, they arrived at the secluded bluestone path.
Wang Shisanlang was carrying a large urn on his back, which looked very heavy, but in the past few months, Shisanlang had been honing his body and mind in the extremely cold ice and snow. His mental will was extremely strong, and he didn't care about this burden at all. Fan Xian looked at his figure, his eyes slightly bright, and then he restrained himself, coughed twice, and said: "Even if we have to bury your master in the Temple to fulfill his last wish, we have to make this trip."
Wang Shisanlang was silent for a moment and said: "You don't need to reassure me. If it was just for this, I would have come alone. You seem to have offended the gods in the Temple, and following you, I am more likely to be in danger."
Fan Xian smiled and cursed: "You heartless thing."
"Master's last wish was to sprinkle his ashes on these bluestone steps..." Wang Shisanlang suddenly sighed, looking at the bluestone steps that soared straight into the sky.
Fan Xian was silent for a moment and then shook his head: "Sword Saint thought this was a sacred realm, so he was willing to put it on these bluestone steps. You and I have both been to the Temple, so we naturally know that it is not a sacred realm. Are you still planning to do it according to his wishes now?"
"Then what should we do?"
"Carry it up, listen to me later."
From the snowy night a few years ago, when Wang Shisanlang, fresh out of the furnace, was sent by his master Si Gu Jian to Nanqing, to Fan Xian's side, he had become accustomed to listening to Fan Xian's words. Although Fan Xian regarded him as a friend, Shisanlang definitely didn't have much awareness of being a partner. Perhaps it was because he was too lazy to think about too many complicated things, or perhaps it was because he was focused on his sword, he handed over those things that needed to be worked out to Fan Xian. Therefore, when Fan Xian said to listen to him in everything, Wang Shisanlang naturally listened to him in everything, carrying the heavy ashes urn, supporting the seriously injured Fan Xian, and climbing step by step into the snow mountain.
He didn't know how long he climbed, but the long bluestone steps finally came to an end. The gray-tiled, black-walled, solemn, and majestic Temple was once again displayed in front of the eyes of mortals. Although it was his second time coming, Wang Shisanlang still couldn't help but feel a slight agitation in his heart.
Fan Xian's mood was very calm, but the air in his chest was a little agitated, and he coughed violently. The sound of coughing disrespectfully spread across the square platform in front of the Temple, echoing far away in the mountain snow valley.
Wang Shisanlang nervously glanced at him, thinking that since they were here to steal someone, they had to be a little more careful. How could he be so presumptuous, as if he was afraid that the Temple wouldn't know that there were people outside?
Fan Xian coughed for a long time, his body bent into a shrimp shape, almost tearing the wound in his chest and abdomen, before slowly straightening up. His back was straight, his pupils narrowed slightly, and he coldly looked at the large plaque above the Temple, as well as the word "Do Not" and the three "M"s on the plaque, maintaining a chilling silence.
The Temple naturally knew that someone was coming, and it must have also known at this moment that the target it had been trying to erase, Ye Qingmei's son, Fan Xian, a fellow traveler from the God Realm, had also arrived outside the Temple. What made Fan Xian feel slightly uneasy was that the Temple's silence at this moment seemed a little strange. He couldn't help but think of the thrust that Wu Zhu deliberately showed mercy...
The silence didn't last long. The corners of Fan Xian's lips twitched slightly. He stared at the thick, dark door of the Temple, took a deep breath, and said with a sinister exhale: "Smash it!"
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...
Very few mortals knew the whereabouts of the Temple, and even fewer people had been to the Temple. At least in the past few hundred years, probably only the Western High Priest Boer and the Eastern Ku He and Xiao En had ever been here. Even Boer's wife, Fubo Wa, hadn't had the opportunity to travel to the Temple. In people's imaginations, whoever came to the Temple would have to be respectful, but no one would have thought that someone would smash the Temple's door today.
Breaking in was a hooligan's way of doing things. Although it was another matter whether the Temple's thick door could be smashed, at least Fan Xian's word had already shown that he was not afraid of angering the Temple. Perhaps it was because he knew that the Temple was an inanimate object and didn't have the joys, sorrows, and sorrows that humans should have.
Wang Shisanlang didn't hesitate at all. He grunted, raised Si Gu Jian's ashes urn to his side with one hand, circulated the true energy in his body, and with a whoosh, he slammed the brown ashes urn over!
With a loud "pa" sound, the ashes urn was smashed to pieces on the thick door of the Temple, stirring up countless dust, and occasionally a few pieces of unsmashed bone fragments flew out!
The ash-formed mist gradually dissipated, and the thick front door of the Temple was not smashed to pieces, but a deep mark appeared, which looked a bit bleak. What was especially dazzling was that next to the mark, a piece of bone peak was deeply plunged into the door.
It was like a sword.
Wang Shisanlang's lips were a little dry, and his eyes were fixed on the bone peak. He thought that even after his master died, the remaining bones were still full of sword intent.
This was naturally a feeling of bewilderment that arose from being a disciple, but Wang Shisanlang looked at Si Gu Jian's ashes scattered on the front door and stone platform of the Temple. For some reason, he felt excited, and the last trace of fear and nervousness in the depths of his heart disappeared somewhere.
Fan Xian suddenly smiled in a hoarse voice and said: "If your master knew that his bones could still smash the gate of the Temple once, I'm afraid his soul would be dancing happily everywhere..."
These two young men understood Si Gu Jian's intentions very well, so they smashed the ashes urn on the gate of the Temple. They knew that it must be in line with the idea of ββthe Heaven-Piercing and Earth-Penetrating Grandmaster.
Wang Shisanlang finally laughed.
At this time, the only thing to consider was that since the door of the Temple had already been smashed, the Temple always had to react. Wang Shisanlang took the wooden stick from Fan Xian's hand, lowered his waist slightly, stared at the door of the Temple, and began to prepare for a tiger-fighting strike.
Fan Xian raised his right hand to stop his movements. His face was smiling but not smiling, and he quietly waited for the Temple's reaction. His heart had long been rid of anything related to fear and gain or loss. Haitang and Wang Shisanlang thought that his second visit to the Temple was an adventure, but he didn't think so. Because regarding the Temple, he had miscalculated once and almost died, but he didn't think he would miscalculate this time. After all, the current Temple only had Wu Zhu as its acting force. As long as he could wake up Wu Zhu, what was the Temple...?
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The Temple's reaction was very quick. The heavy door only opened a crack, and a strange and terrifying black shadow floated out from inside, like a black lightning, or like a touch of night coming. In an instant, it crossed the interval of space and time and came to Fan Xian's presence.
Dressed in coarse cloth and a black belt, holding an iron awl in his hand, he thrust the awl out, whistling and splitting the air. No one could stop such a terrible move.
Fan Xian could not, Wang Shisanlang could not, even Si Gu Jian alive could not, let alone Si Gu Jian, who was only a few broken bones and a pile of ashes between the three of them at this time.
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...
However, the iron awl that had no emotion at all, and was only unswervingly cold, stopped abruptly when it was about to pierce Fan Xian's body!
To recover from such a fast speed to absolute calm, what a terrible strength this was. Fan Xian quietly looked at the familiar relative in front of him, the strange peerless powerhouse, the Temple envoy guard, and said, "Are you curious?"
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...
He didn't know if it was because Wu Zhu recognized that the mortal in front of him was the target that the Temple needed to eliminate that day, or because Fan Xian said such a strange sentence. But in short, Wu Zhu's iron awl did not stab out, but remained in front of Fan Xian's throat.
The tip of the iron awl was not very sharp, and it did not contain any trembling majestic true energy. It just steadily maintained a distance from Fan Xian's throat cartilage that seemed to be touching but not touching. As long as the person holding the iron awl shook his finger, Fan Xian would die with a broken throat.
Wang Shisanlang nervously watched this scene from the side. He finally believed Fan Xian's words. In front of this strange cloth-robed grandmaster, no one could help Fan Xian. In the end, the only one who could help Fan Xian was himself.
Fan Xian acted as if he couldn't see the iron awl under his jaw. He just looked at Wu Zhu, who was close at hand, smiled gently, and said softly, "I know you are curious."
"You are curious why, on that day, you knew that I wasn't dead, but you would rather violate your instinctive obedience to the old man in the Temple and let me out of the Temple." Fan Xian lowered his eyes slightly, his eyes gentle.
"You are curious about who I am, why you have no memory of my existence, but you feel familiar and close to me when you look at me." Fan Xian's eyes were bright and energetic.
"You are even more curious about how I avoided your inevitable thrust that day. You are the envoy of the Temple, I am a mortal in the world, the target that the Temple must eliminate. Why do I know you so well..." Fan Xian said slowly, looking at Wu Zhu's indifferent face.
"Of course, please believe me, no one in this world knows what your biggest curiosity is at this moment better than me."
"What you are curious about is why you have this feeling of familiarity and closeness. What you are most curious about is why... you are curious!"
Seven consecutive sentences about curiosity came out of Fan Xian's thin and pale lips. There was no hesitation, no hesitation, only a rush out, step by step forcing questions, only sentence after sentence pointing directly at that cold heart covered by black cloth.
After saying the seven sentences, Fan Xian suddenly felt exhausted and couldn't help but cough twice!
After coughing, his eyes were even brighter, and the hope in his heart was even stronger, because no one knew that when Wu Zhu's iron awl was so close to his throat cartilage, he would bleed on the spot if he moved even a little, let alone cough violently.
The reason why he didn't die after coughing was naturally because the iron awl in Wu Zhu's hand was accurate to an unimaginable degree. With the tremor and movement of Fan Xian's body, it moved forward and backward accordingly - making a snail's horn in an instant, it was really powerful!
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Wang Shisanlang began to stare at Wu Zhu's hand. When he found that he couldn't change anything in front of this strange blind man, he began to nervously watch Fan Xian's body. When Fan Xian coughed, his heart was also half cold. However, immediately afterward, he found that Fan Xian was still alive. This fact made him admire Fan Xian to the extreme, and he finally understood where Fan Xian's confidence came from when he ignored his and Haitang's opposition under the snow mountain.
But Fan Xian was not nervous at all, not worried at all about being killed by the blind man covered in black cloth in front of him? Wang Shisanlang didn't believe it, because he clearly saw that Fan Xian's hands behind his back were trembling slightly.
Then Wang Shisanlang took a few steps back towards the bluestone steps, widened the distance between the two of them, he saw Fan Xian's gestures, and he was worried that his existence would destroy Fan Xian's arrangements and cause the blind grandmaster to change.
Fan Xian's mood was not completely relaxed. He stared at the black cloth on Wu Zhu's eyes, trying to see the questions that were constantly turning back and forth in the other person's heart from the other person's expression. However, after a moment, he found that all this was in vain, because Wu Zhu's face was still so indifferent, and the aura between his eyebrows was still so unfamiliar.
It wasn't that he could be called familiar because he was always cold. Wu Zhu had only smiled at Fan Xian a few times in his life. However, at this moment, Wu Zhu's indifference in front of the Temple was truly strange.
Fan Xian's heart sank slightly, and his body also sank with it. He sat down quite naturally and sat in the shallow snow in front of the Temple's gate, not caring at all about the iron awl on his throat, which could kill him at any time.
What was strange was that Wu Zhu also sat down with him, sitting at the gate of the Temple, sitting there alone, as if blocking all the eyes of the world peeping, and the howling wind and snow for thousands of years.
The iron awl was still stretched out straight in Wu Zhu's hand, as stable as his own forearm, staying on Fan Xian's throat. Perhaps he wouldn't feel tired even if he held it like this for ten thousand years.
But Fan Xian felt tired, especially when Wu Zhu sat there coldly, but never opened his mouth to speak. Perhaps there was a trace of warmth in the heart in this cold body, but it never warmed up. This fact made Fan Xian feel tired. He didn't know if he could awaken this closest relative.
He was best at psychological warfare in his life. His two most outstanding battles were naturally aimed at Haitang and the old emperor. Haitang was ultimately defeated in his hands, and the powerful Emperor Qing was also uneasy under Fan Xian's entanglement. Even if the father and son turned against each other, it also left wounds everywhere on the Emperor's heart, and he wanted to break it to pieces.
This time, he went to the Temple again, trying to awaken Wu Zhu. There was no doubt that it was the most authentic psychological warfare, but it was also the most difficult psychological warfare in Fan Xian's life, because Wu Zhu was not a mortal. He was not a mortal from his body to his thinking. He was a legend. He was cold. He was a program. The most important thing was that he had forgotten everything, forgotten himself and his mother...
Wu Zhu fell into eternal silence, bringing unfathomable difficulties to Fan Xian's attempts. Without dialogue, how could he know the changes in the other party's thinking, how could he take the opportunity to enter and point directly to the heart? Look at the other party's expression and observe their words and expressions? But what expressions has Wu Zhu ever had in his life?
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...
"You have been brainwashed." After a long silence, Fan Xian sighed with extreme sadness, "You are still a legendary figure in the Temple. You are obviously at a higher level than the old man in the Temple, so why have you been brainwashed?"
In Fan Xian's view, Wu Zhu, who had emotions, self-thinking, and self-awareness, was originally a living person, and he was naturally much more advanced than the old man in the Temple who controlled everything, but still only knew how to follow the dogshit's four laws. It was just that it seemed that the Temple had a kind of control method that no one knew about for the envoys who went out from there, otherwise Wu Zhu would not have become a heartless machine.
Although Wu Zhu's humanity was not very sufficient back then.
"My name is Fan Xian. I said it that day. Although you have forgotten, I want to tell you a story. This story is about you and me. I hope you can remember something. Of course, even if you remember, maybe you can't break the shackles on your heart, but we always have to try."
"At least you don't want to kill me. This is probably something in your instinct, which is pretty good, isn't it?" Fan Xian looked at Wu Zhu's cold face along the straight iron awl, wanting to smile, but he almost cried. He forcibly took a deep breath, calmed the emotions in his heart, and then began to say: "A long time ago, there was a pretty little girl living with you in this Temple. Do you still remember her?"
The tip of the iron awl in Wu Zhu's hand, which was still and unmoving, moved in and out with Fan Xian's deep breathing, which was wonderful, but it was still attached to Fan Xian's throat, just like the tremor of Fan Xian's throat when he spoke, and the iron awl also moved with it. It was just that this movement was extremely small, even so small that it could not be seen by the naked eye.
Fan Xian also ignored how much Wu Zhu still remembered, and continued to narrate the story about Wu Zhu calmly and sincerely, the little girl who took him away from the Temple, they went to Dongyi City together, met an idiot, did some things, and then went to Danzhou, met a group of idiots plus a eunuch idiot, and then things...
The snow in the sky was slowly falling, bringing an unspeakable sacred and tragic feeling to the surroundings of the Temple. The old man in the Temple was probably constantly urging Wu Zhu's actions in a silent way, while Fan Xian's occasional coughs, occasional silences, and unusually hoarse and tired voice were like completely opposite instructions, causing Wu Zhu to maintain his current posture and sit motionless at the gate of the Temple.
Gradually, the white snow covered the bodies of the two people. Wu Zhu was obviously closer to the eaves of the Temple, but he had more snow on his body, perhaps because his body temperature was lower.
The weather was getting colder and colder. The snow on Fan Xian's body melted and flowed down his fur coat. The cold penetrated his body, making his coughs more frequent. However, his words did not stop at all, and he still kept talking about the past, everything about Wu Zhu.
"The picture on that carriage always seems to be rewinding..." Fan Xian coughed twice and wiped the snot that had turned into ice chips with his sleeve. Although he was embarrassed, the light in his eyes did not weaken at all. He knew that this psychological warfare was about fighting the Temple's control over Wu Zhu. He did not have any room for relaxation.
"You opened a grocery store in Danzhou, but the business was not very good. It was often closed, and your face was always cold, so of course no one was willing to take care of your business."
Fan Xian smiled with some sadness, and continued in a hoarse voice: "Of course, I am willing to take care of your business, although I was still young at that time, but you often prepared some good wine for me to drink."
As he spoke, Fan Xian himself seemed to have returned to his childhood after his rebirth. Although the life in Danzhou at that time seemed a bit boring, grandma treated him with strictness and kindness, and refused to relax his homework. Moreover, the people of Danzhou did not give him the opportunity to kill in all directions, but he desperately cultivated the domineering Kung Fu, followed Mr. Fei to dig up corpses everywhere, and worked hard to memorize the rules and regulations of the Supervisory Yuan and the detailed rules for implementation, and also prevented being assassinated...
However, those were the happiest days in Fan Xian's two lives, not only because the sea breeze in Danzhou was refreshing, and the camellias were very beautiful all over the mountains, but also because of the gentleness of Sister Donger, and the charming and lovely of the four great maids, the biggest reason was because of that grocery store, the cold blind young servant in the grocery store, the yellow flowers on the cliff, and the education under the stick.
While narrating, Fan Xian was a little dazed, thinking of his childhood when he went to the grocery store to steal wine to drink, Wu Zhu always cut radish shreds for him to drink, but he didn't care that he was only a few years old, and a trace of warmth appeared on the corner of his lips.
Like a magic trick, Fan Xian took out a radish from his bloated fur coat, and then took out a kitchen knife, and began to chop radish on the bluestone ground in front of the Temple. The bluestone ground in front of the Temple has gone through thousands of years of wind, frost, ice and snow, but it is still so smooth. It is used as a chopping board, although it is a bit stiff, it has a special kind of crispness.
The knife was like flying, but in a moment, a radish that was frozen crisp was cut into radish shreds of extremely consistent thickness, and neatly stacked on the bluestone ground.
When cutting radish shreds, Fan Xian did not speak, but Wu Zhu tilted his head and looked at the knife in Fan Xian's hand and the radish calmly through the black cloth, seeming not to understand what was happening in front of him.
Cutting radish shreds in front of the Temple's gate, if Fan Xian could survive, it would probably be the most arrogant thing he had done in his life, more arrogant than jumping down from the imperial city to kill Qin Ye, more arrogant than rushing into the imperial palace and slapping the old empress dowager, and even more arrogant than assassinating the old emperor in the palace with a single sword!
However, Wu Zhu still didn't seem to remember anything, but was just curious about Fan Xian's boring behavior. Fan Xian lowered his head, sighed, threw the kitchen knife aside, pointed to the radish shreds in front of him, and said in a calm tone: "You always disliked my radish shreds for not being cut well back then. What do you think of my cutting now?"
Wu Zhu turned his head back and remained silent indifferently. A strong chill arose in Fan Xian's heart. He suddenly felt that he was doing useless work. No matter what he did, he could not awaken Wu Zhu. Wu Zhu was already dead and would never come alive again?
The world was very cold, and the Temple was very cold, but Fan Xian seemed to feel it until this moment, and he shivered all over.
He suddenly bit his teeth hard, biting a trace of blood on his lips, staring at Wu Zhu, staring at Wu Zhu angrily, and after a long time, his emotions calmed down, and he roared gloomily: "I don't believe in this evil! Don't pretend to me! I know you remember!"
"I know you remember!" Fan Xian's voice was extremely hoarse. Constant talking damaged his vocal cords, "I don't believe you have forgotten the years of getting along on the cliff. I don't believe you have forgotten that night, when you talked about the box and when you talked about your mother, you smiled, have you forgotten?"
"What about that rainy night? You tricked Hong Siyang out of the palace, and later bragged to me that you could kill him... We stole the key back and opened the box, and you smiled again."
Fan Xian coughed violently and cursed: "You can obviously smile, so what are you doing pretending to be a dead man here?"
Wu Zhu was still motionless, and the iron awl in his hand was also motionless, piercing Fan Xian's throat. The snow was still falling coldly, and no sound could be heard in front of the Temple except for Fan Xian's voice. Gradually, the sky was dim, perhaps it was nightfall, or perhaps the clouds were getting thicker, but the snow above Fan Xian's head stopped.
The sound of rustling sounded. Wang Shisanlang was covered in sweat, set up a small spare tent behind Fan Xian, and then pushed it to the top of Fan Xian's head, covering his whole body. The door of the tent happened to be between Fan Xian and Wu Zhu, and he did not move the stable iron awl.
The snow was heavy, and Wang Shisanlang was worried about Fan Xian's body, so he had worked hard before and returned to the camp as quickly as possible, took this small tent to shelter Fan Xian from the snow, no wonder he was so breathless.
Fan Xian may have known or not, because he just stared at Wu Zhu with lost or lifeless eyes, blinking and not blinking, and desperately talking in a harsh and hoarse voice. Fan Xian was not a chatterbox, but the words he said this day were probably more than he had said in his entire life.
After Wang Shisanlang finished all this, he looked at the strange duo in front of the Temple with a complicated expression, and sat on the bluestone steps covered with white snow again.
These three crazy people can really do such crazy things.
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A day and a night passed.
The iron awl in Wu Zhu's hand did not leave Fan Xian's throat for a day and a night, and he did not seem to know why he did not want to kill the mortal in front of him who talked so much.
Fan Xian kept talking for a day and a night, and he did not seem to know that his saliva had long been dried up. The food and water Wang Shisanlang handed over were put aside by him. The saliva dried up and was born again. His vocal cords were extremely hoarse after being damaged, and even the saliva stars that he brought with him were dyed pink. His throat began to bleed, his voice began to be difficult to hear clearly, and his speed of speech was already slower than that of an old man who was about to die.
Wang Shisanlang listened to these two strange people for a day and a night. He began to listen extremely carefully, because in Fan Xian's bloody accusation to Wu Zhu, he heard a lot of the truth about the situation on the mainland back then. He knew many magnificent characters, and he knew more about Fan Xian's childhood and adolescence.
However, when Fan Xian began to repeat his life biography for the third time, and took out the kitchen knife for the fourth time to gesticulate the action of cutting radish shreds, begging Wu Zhu to remember something, Wang Shisanlang could not bear to listen anymore.
He sat on the bluestone steps with his knees hugged, looking at the strange and beautiful light and shadow in the distance of the snow mountain range, and his fingers subconsciously gathered the scattered ashes and ash marks beside him, which were Si Gu Jian's remains.
When Haitang walked to the gate of the Temple, what she saw was such a scene. She saw three crazy people. Wang Shisanlang was sitting on the bluestone steps in a daze, playing with his master's ashes, and Fan Xian was sitting at the door of a small tent like a country god statue, constantly saying incomprehensible content in a hoarse and difficult voice. And Wu Zhu was stretching out the iron awl, motionless, like a statue, and this statue was covered in white snow, without a trace of life.
The iron awl was lying between Wu Zhu and Fan Xian, like separating two completely different, untouchable worlds.
Whether it was thrusting it out or taking it back, perhaps everyone in the field would feel much better, but it was such a cold and stable one, lying between the two of them, making people infinitely sad and infinitely painful.
One person could not bear to leave, but the person who could not bear it still did not understand. The most painful thing in the world was nothing more than this, nothing more than not understanding.
After just one glance, Haitang knew what had happened in this day and night. A kind of unbearable sadness welled up in her heart. Until today, she was sure that for Fan Xian, there were always many things that were more important than his life.
"He is crazy." Haitang stared blankly at the ominous red in Fan Xian's face, listened to his hoarse and slow and blurred voice, and looked at the blood-colored saliva stars on the white snow on Wu Zhu's body. Her heart was stabbed.
Wang Shisanlang stood up with extreme difficulty, looked at her for a moment in silence, and said: "They are all crazy, otherwise why didn't you listen to him and come up?"
"I just think that since he is going to die, I also want to watch him die." Haitang glanced at Wang Shisanlang and said with a slight nod.
"He can't hold on for too long. His injury has not been healed, and he was stabbed with a penetrating wound that day. He lost too much blood. Even if he wants to cross the ice field and return to the south, it will be a very difficult thing, let alone he does not cherish his life so much and has to come here to try." Wang Shisanlang turned around and stood side by side with Haitang, watching Fan Xian, who was still trying to wake up Wu Zhu without knowing anything or feeling anything, and said calmly: "He has been talking for a whole day and night, and he has also been frozen for a whole day and night. If this continues, there is only one way to die."
"Can you persuade him to leave? It seems that the blind grandmaster did not follow the orders of the immortals in the Temple to kill him."
"It would be better if he was killed, so you don't have to hear his desperate voice all night like I did last night." Wang Shisanlang suddenly smiled and said: "But I really admire Fan Xian. It is really rare to see someone who is so determined to die."
Haitang looked at Fan Xian's pale face with a red glow, extremely haggard and tired, and watched for a long time, and suddenly her body trembled slightly, and a light brighter than the mountain snow valley appeared in her eyes.
Wang Shisanlang suddenly felt a slight fluctuation beside him and stared at Haitang with wide eyes.
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...
A mouthful of blood spurted out, hitting the black cloth that was close at hand, and then flowing down the cold face and the cold snow, which looked particularly shocking.
However, Wu Zhu still did not move. Fan Xian wiped off the blood stains from the corner of his mouth with extreme difficulty, knowing that he had reached the end of his life, and an uncontrollable despair arose in his heart. The relative on the opposite side was still strange, still cold, still had no soul, and was still... dead.
Fan Xian could not help but shiver again. He suddenly thought that Wu Zhu had been responsible for spreading the fire for the Temple and had walked in the world for I don't know how many thousands of years. I am afraid that there were hundreds of thousands of years of memories in his mind. Maybe, maybe... These unforgettable memories that I coughed up and retold this day and night were just extremely ordinary existences for the shell opposite me that was as cold as a snow mountain, including the memory of my mother, Ye Qingmei!
I was just relying on these ordinary stories to awaken a person with countless knowledge and countless memories. What a naive and ridiculous idea this was. As soon as he thought of this, Fan Xian was completely disillusioned, and a desperate meaning arose in his eyes.
His voice was a little distorted, and he seemed particularly desolate